Artful Calling
by Romanec
Summary: A collection of poems by all characters on other characters. Newest: Two poems. Touma has never been able to cope with his guilt over what happened to Eiri, and his own part in it.
1. From Suguru to Hiro

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation. Maki Murakami does**_

**A/N: I jot these down in various classes. They will variate in length, content, pairings, style, and genre. They are mostly for my own amusement.**

**A/N: Suguru and Hiro seem ... like a good pair to me, but Suguru comes off as more refined. I doubt he would want any relationship known, but Hiro would ...**

**Rating: T**

* * *

**By Suguru Fujisaki on Hiro Nakano**

_That I should feel the touch of your skin but one last time._

_The feel of your lips against mine._

_To me, your flush so unappreciated for what it was_

_To the world, unknown in sincerity because_

_That I had been so easily fooled, by myself more than you_

_Too late, isn't it, so long from again from here._

_Too late, I know, to ask forgiveness for your tears._

* * *


	2. From Ryuichi to Shuichi

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation. Maki Murakami does.**_

**A/N: Ryuichi so adorable, but mature, too. Here's one potential poem I could see him writing during a rehersal break, much to Touma's fond exasperation. :)**

**Rating: K**

* * *

**By: Ryuichi Sakuma on Shuichi Shindou**

**S**_parkly!_

**H**_uman!_

**U**_nique!_

**I**_ncredible!_

**C**_ooooooooooooooooool!_

**H**_ot!_

**I**_ndescribable_

* * *


	3. By Eiri Yuki On Unknown

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation. Maki Murakami does**_

**A/N: This particular poem was located in the desk of famed author Eiri Yuki (Yuki Eiri, if you have). It is not known exactly who the author is, as the poem is typed and old, but it assumed, by the style, to be Eiri Yuki. True targets are, sadly, still unknown. Whether it is an actual finished work with an intentional cut off, or incomplete, is still being debated.**

**Rating: ?**

* * *

**By Eiri Yuki On Unknown**

Reconciled whispers of blue and black and white

Littering against a soul; a mournful cry

Of sweet charade brings smile upon lips

Smile beyond understood, the quiet that it is.

To be blind, than to witness all this shame

The darkness that could not be death; so long has

been heard its homecoming.

But it would be my punishment, to witness it all the same.

To forget, to know --


	4. By Touma Seguchi 1

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation. Maki Murakami does.**_

**A/N: There can be no greater pain than to know your brother was so terribly hurt by someone trusted, and that because you trusted, and because you were focused elsewhere, you were not there to stop it. Poems not of apology, but of self-hate.**

**Rating: T**

* * *

**By Touma Seguchi**

Standing on the brink of Chasm, so dark and deep and fearful

My land has turned a darkened blue,

My Air has disappeared.

Death would be merciful,

No matter how selfish the thought –

Pulled apart, ripped to shreds,

Bleeding from the outside in,

Burned to ash, beaten to black,

Torture old but effectively fatal –

They could bring no equal of pain to me,

Than my deep, taunting shadows of reality.

Shadows on my shoulders, claws

Deep into my back

Forever in permanent Mark.

Selfish desire of death, come to me, but I will

Not take. No matter how gruesome, how

Ruthless, how right, you shall end

After your fun has passed.

And end – not what I deserve.


	5. By Touma Seguchi 2

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation. Maki Murakami does.**_

**A/N: An inner turmoil of loathing that cannot be escaped. Touma cannot cope.**

**Rating: Hard T, M if you wish.**

* * *

**By Touma Seguchi**

There's a whisper on the tails of a nonexistent wind that I can hear at any time of day.

The haunting call of a nightmare I do not have to sleep to have;

Taunting an existence I never asked to have.

To complain would result in nothing.

To complain is underserved – selfish – spoiled.

For the cold blanket wrapped so tightly around me,

A perfect casket for an undead body;

Filled with holds in a rotted wood that would float in the sea…

If not for the weight of darkness within it.

I deserve nothing less

And so much more

Than the nothing on my shoulder and this whisper only I can hear.

-0-

Demons and nightmares

And ropes wrapped around wrists that are knotted and tied down to the ground as bait.

Bait for what –

Something I cannot see

But know is there –

A giant shadow that walks with the sound of heartbeats

And glows like pain.

I do not know what it calls itself,

And to others it holds many names.

It is not my God, but my God's opponent,

Maybe.

-0-

The despair does call and beckons forward

And I think I would like to follow it

And it would like to follow me.

And together,

Maybe,

We could walk with our hands clasped,

Ropes dropped free, and in their place –

Blood; and bound together more than,

Perhaps,

Either of us would like.

But it would chill and my rain would not freeze

To Ice or Snow,

And I could be caressed by the sweet Bitterness of torment

In a never-ending downstream of beauty.

-0-

And how beautiful such chilling sorrow is,

Gleaming under the light of a Sun that does not exist,

Falling to pierce my skin like merciful assassins I have begged for,

For so long.

I Live because I deserve no better,

But do not live,

Because I deserve so much less.

* * *

**These two poems were written within weeks of each other, and I didn't mean for them to sound so close. I tried to combine them, but the previous poem was more proper poetic than this one, so it wouldn't work. In the end, however, I think I like it like this. **

**Tell me what you thought, please? :)**


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